Saving Miranda
by SoleFaith
Summary: (This Story Is on Hold)
1. Chapter 1

Spooning a lump of peas in my mouth, I proceed to recount the last semester of law school to my father. Obviously, majoring as a lawyer doesn't seem like something a kid would want to do with their lives, but damn, it pays in gold. Not to mention it's my not so secret passion. I take a quick sip on my root beer and look up from the lace table cloth to meet my dad's eyes.

"So how's the WWE, any interesting storylines you're just dying to spill the details about. I mean, I was watching a couple nights before left California but I was a bit distracted." I bit my tongue. Yup, I couldn't leave California without saying goodbye to my boyfriend, heh, that was a good night.

"Not really." He mutters texting God knows who. I cross my arms. Well welcome home to you to.

"You know what." I pick up my half empty plate and place it in the sink. "I'm really tired, jet lag and all, I better get some sleep." I roll my eyes annoyed and walk up the stairs, my heels hitting the carpeted floor.

I flop down on my pink sheets and pull the pillow over my face before screaming bloody murder. Luckily, I have one hefty pillow or I'm sure the neighbors would have called the cops.

_Standing in the rain, with his head hung low  
couldn't get a ticket, it was a sold out show_

I quickly pick up my phone smiling at my ringtone. That right there is my zombie killing song. "Why didn't you tell me you left California?" I sigh at Lana's voice.

"Well hello to you too." I laugh staring up at the neon stars on my ceiling.

"Well…" she pushes.

"I didn't want you stowing away in my luggage." There is an awkward silence before we both crack up laughing.

"That is something I would do, isn't it?" She quips and I can picture her lying on her blue blanketed bed back in our dorm in Seaside.

"Yup." We both laugh again.

"Well, was your dad happy to see you?" Lana asks her voice tainted with jealously. Her parents died in a car crash last spring. She never really got over that.

"If you call texting your dude crushes while we eat dinner excited to see me, then yes." I bite my lip. I hear Lana let out a deep breath.

"Well at least you have a dad unlike…." Her words get smaller and smaller until she is officially silent.

"Seriously, Lana, don't do this to me right now. You're not the only one who lost a parent. I swear tomorrow I'll see my dad on a date with the mail lady or the milk lady or that Taxi driver who has a mole on her upper lip."

"Ewwww." Lana yells into the phone causing me to almost fall off my bed. "Don't even mention moles in front of me Miranda or I swear I will hang up on you."

"Mole." The phone line suddenly goes dead and I fall backwards onto my pillow. I swear, that girl won't call me back till tomorrow.

My eyes creak open the next morning and I turn my body to face the clock. 9:25. I let out a moan and close my eyes for a moment to try and fall back to sleep. I dare my alarm to try and go off on my right now, it will be nothing but gears and metal if it even thinks of trying anything.

"Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep."

"Stupid bad luck." I groan as I fall out of bed startled. I take a quick shower before brushing my hair and stumbling sleepy eyed down the spiral staircase. I lean against the fridge taking a deep breath. But before I open the freezer and raid the ice cream I notice a sticky note on the coffee maker.

'_Preparing for Raw tonight. My locker room is A-24 if you need me._'

Clipped to the note is a ticket to Raw and a backstage pass, though I soon notice I have nothing to do for the next ten hours. Forget the ice-cream I need something strong. I pour myself a cup of coffee and sit in front of the TV to watch a ten hour marathon of Judge Judy.

**13 Hours Later**

"YOU IDIOT! MARIA IS INNOCENT! THE PLANTIFF IS STARTED THE FLIPPING FIGHT!" I yell at the TV, now standing up and throwing my head back in annoyance. The show ends and I look down at my watch before cursing to myself. Shit. I'm late. Pulling on a light rain coat I run out to the car, resisting the urge to frolic under the cloud's tears.

I pull the door shut and start the engine, driving as fast as I can towards the stadium. Yes, when I mean as fast as I can, I mean as fast as I can. Screw the speed limit.

I make it to the arena two hours into the show, and slouch down against a wall, letting the rain drops pelt me like bullets. Finally, I pull myself together and decide to watch the show from the TV in the arena cafeteria. I mean, it's just like watching it on TV, but with thirty other people and roman noodles.

To my luck, my father and his client are actually on at the moment. I relax into a metal chair, hold my head up in my hands, and watch the show. At least if he asks me anything I can give him details. "But that would be a stupid hero, it would guarantee a beating less than a week before summer slam." My father says and that's all I can hear before the whole cafeteria breaks out in CM Punk chants. Ok den. Then, as if someone cast a magic spell, the chants stop, and his entrance music blasts so loud we would probably be able to hear it with the TV switched off. A faint smirk crosses my lips as he hits Brok Lesner with the camera man's camera. Brok rolls out of the ring and again I smile, because the look on my dad's face is absolutely priceless.

Though, as Punk goes after my father with a chair the smugness disappears from my face and I purse my lips. Well that isn't good. Pulling my fingers through my hair relief flows over me as my father runs back behind the curtain. Better.

I stand up, throwing my noodles in the garbage, and walk backstage, making sure to show my backstage pass to anyone who tries to stop me. Trying to remember which locker room I am supposed to go to I figure I'd take a guess. A-14. That sounds about right.

I knock on the door, pacing back and forth, until I hear a click and the door opens. I open my mouth to talk but am cut off when I realize this is not my father. No way in hell is this my father. "I am so sorry. I was looking for someplace else. Uh. Oh my gosh I am such a hypocritical idiot. You don't care. Right." I ramble and I realize I should've just run away from this embarrassment the moment the door opened. I feel my face heating up as I finally decide to shut my mouth.

"You're lost?" he asks and I nod. For a moment I feel as if all my years of law school really just decided to ruin me because I seriously should be able to speak to someone without becoming cherry red. "Where are you supposed to be?"

"I really…..really….have no clue." I bit my lower lip and set my jaw, I must seem so distressed right now.

"Do you need to call someone?" he asks and I nod again. "You can come in and wait for them to come get you if you want to-"

"No." I interrupt my voice wavering firmly. "That's probably not such a good idea considering—considering that uh—that I have a rare disease called R.E.A.D.S.L.U.V.I.A and it is contagious as hell. I better go." My feet finally have motion in them and I run off.

**Later That Night**

_Standing in the rain, with his head hung low  
couldn't get a ticket, it was a sold out show_

"Lana don't freak out but today I was looking for my dad's loc—" I am suddenly interrupted by a male's voice and I curse. I should've never assumed it was Lana. But then again, she is the only one who ever calls me.

"You left your bag in front of my locker room. I didn't figure you were coming back for it, but it had a number to call if it was found so…"

Silence.

"Hello?"

Silence.

"Hello?"

"Oh. Thanks. How do you suppose I get it?" I question skeptically eyeing the door incase my dad has a revelation and decides to actually converse with me.

"I could drop it off at your place—" For a split second I find it suspicious he would so willingly come to some random, possibly crazy, fans house just to drop off a bag. I would have thought he'd have people for that.

"No." I interrupt. "I'd rather there be witnesses." My father's so occupied with his work a herd of storm troopers could go past him and he wouldn't look up from his phone.

I think I hear him chuckle, but I'm not quite sure. "Well will you be at SmackDown tomorrow?" he asks.

"I suppose."

"Then it's a date." My eyes go wide.

"But, like literally a date. Like a date in time. If you know what I mean." I stutter.

"Yea." When he hangs up the phone I drop it on the floor, not bothering to check if it's cracked or such. There is a knock on my door.

"Who were you talking to?" My dad asks me and I sigh, a convincing, happy sigh.

"You know, just Lana." Damn. I am an amazing liar.

"That's good." He stated blandly and then leaves. No I was talking to CM Punk.

* * *

**Yes I have a story in progress and it will be continued. The next chapter of this will be out sooner than the other though. I decided to change up my writing style a bit so I hope you give the story a chance. Reveiew, follow, ect. What do you think. Be honest.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **_Bam! Here's Chapter Two! Again, the update for my other story is in progress. It's just the inspiration is flowing into this story at the moment. Oh, and if you were wondering her ringtone is "Jukebox Hero" by Foreigner. Great Song, you should totally check it out. Enjoy!_

* * *

I'm actually at the taping of Smack Down early, unlike Raw because I was two hours late then. But I can truthfully say, I didn't sleep last night. So that might be a factor. I sit on a chair in the cafeteria, the same one I was in last night and eat some kind of turkey sandwich. Well, at least I hope it's a turkey sandwich. The cafeteria again begins to fill up, because the people here can't afford to get a ticket but figure at least they can tell their friends they were in the building. Lana was demanding updates of my mis-adventure for hours this morning, so many hours I had to hang up on her. But, no, believe me that did not stop her.

Fireworks went off above the arena and again the cafeteria was full of noise. I swear, if they break my hearing I'll sew all of their asses. Quickly, I get up and walk backstage. It's quieter than I expected. Though, I did expect everyone to be at each other's throats. But instead they all seemed friendly enough. As I walk into the catering area I am surprised that nobody really questions me, I doubt a backstage pass gets you this far into the arena.

The tables in catering are scattered, and here and there people give me a sideways glance. But this is where I said I would be, so I sit cross legged in bench seated table and stare off into space. Though, if I see my father here I swear I will just about have a heart attack. Taking a moment to analyze myself in the wall mirror halfway across the room, I blink. That can't be me, I'm just to—to pretty. Though, looking closer, I realize it's not me. It's the person sitting at a table behind me. Damn. I was hoping that was me. Instead, my gaze drifts a millimeter to the right and there I am. The girl with her wavy brown hair pulled to the side in a childish pony tail, and the girl with bags of sleep loss under her bland brown eyes. Yup, definitely me.

"I was kind of afraid you wouldn't show up." I basically jump straight out of my thoughts and into reality, blinking a moment, to see my bag, resting safely on the table. Thank Goodness. Oh, I almost forgot, Punk was there too.

I grab my bag and place it next to my chair. "Well I couldn't leave my bag with a perfect stranger, I mean she must have been so scared."

Punk raises an eyebrow, which I ignore, because I'm too caught up in the moment. "She?" he chuckles.

"Yup." I pause. "Well—uh—nice meeting you Mr. Best in the World. Good luck at Summer Slam—well not too much luck." There is a flicker of sadness in his eyes, which I ignore, before slinging my bag over my shoulder.

"See ya…." Damn, he wants my name.

"Miranda." I pause. "Just Miranda."

I am walking off now, but in the direction of the locker rooms, because hell if I go out to watch Raw and get mentioned for being in the audience. I quickly throw my ticket into the trash and take off down the hall towards my dad's locker room.

I knock on the door, and pile in when my father opens it, which I'm sure startles him pretty bad. "Dad." I say plopping down on his coach. "I gotta tell you a funny story—" In that very moment one of my dad's "guy crushes" as I like to call them, comes out of the bathroom in his ring gear. My pupils become huge. Ok den.

"I thought only women wear underwear like that." I smirk. "But, don't worry. It suits your feminine build." I bite back my laugh as he glares daggers at me. Oh believe me, I have more where that came from.

"What is this—this girl—doing in here?" Axel asks my dad.

"This girl, is sitting right here. So—uh—if you got something to say, say it to my face." I stand up and take a step towards him.

"You're so small I doubt you even have a face." He shots back taking a step towards me.

"Right." I roll my eyes dramatically. "Coming from the person who only has a title because he has Paul Hayman to hold his hand every step of the way."

Before either of us could say anymore my dad literally steps between us like we are about to have a cat fight. "Stop. Oh my gosh. Stop it now." He bellows and we both take a step back.

I chuckle. "See, even your manager knows I could kick that stupid smirk right of your pretty little face." I quip, crossing my arms. Well, I sure showed him. "Have a good match." I wave sarcastically and flop back onto the couch as they both leave for his match against Zack Ryder.

I flip on the TV for a millisecond before deciding that his match isn't worth a damn. Though, it was interesting to talk with CM Punk. I mean, interesting in a weird 'this is awkward' way. So, since I am never going to see him again, what's the harm in having another interesting moment in my life?

I get up from the coach, slip back into my shoes, and follow the yellow brick road of a hallway to locker room A-14. Though, as I raise my hand to knock, I realize I have no good excuse to be there. So, I turn on my heels and decide to go back to hide under the rock in which I came from. Though, I am a bit too late because he actually comes out from his locker room dressed in street clothes.

"I swear I'm not stalking you." I quickly blurt out.

"Oh. Good to know. Hey, now that you're here maybe I could invite you to go out for coffee or something after this ends." He says and I am admittedly confused, but for some reason all I can think about is that going out for coffee to old people is like going bowling to young people.

"Yea, uh sure. Call me." Oh my gosh. Where on earth did that come from. "Cuz you already have my number and such. So-uh-I better go."

**Later-**

"And Daniel Bryan picks up the win!" Jerry Lawler exclaims and I silently chant yes within my head. Though as triple h raises Bryan's hand indicating the win, I sense something in the air and it doesn't feel right. But, who am I to judge.

I go into the locker room bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. This is going to be one heck of a long night.

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**AN:** _Ahhhhhhhh. Yes I know, this was short. But I needed this cliffhanger. Did you like?_


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